


A Long Waltz

by jjsham



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjsham/pseuds/jjsham
Summary: Jim liked to think of his death on the rooftop as a sort of intermission in the waltz he and Sherlock were so engaged in. But now intermission is over, and Sherlock isn't nearly as upset as one would expect the arch-nemesis of a criminal mastermind to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I find the Sherlock/Moriarty pairing intensely interesting but not written enough to satisfy me, so I thought I'd take a stab at writing it myself. I'm just putting feelers out with this fic, but I may develop it more over time. Set season 4, but not canon season 4.

Sherlock didn’t know exactly where Moriarty was. He assumed the consulting criminal was still alive--he wouldn’t have ended their game so prematurely, not when it was such a grand diversion from their usual boredom. No, if Sherlock had created contingency plans before going up to that roof, Moriarty must have too. Sherlock had tried to ask Mycroft about it once, but the elder Holmes either hadn’t known or had decided not to tell Sherlock, probably thinking it would be best not to reignite his little brother’s obsession with the criminal mastermind. What dear Mycroft didn’t know, however, was that Sherlock was never quite able to put his arch-nemesis out of his thoughts. He was always there, imprisoned in Sherlock’s mind palace and surfacing at regular intervals in times of excessive boredom, or when cases got particularly interesting. _THINK_ , he would scream at Sherlock. _You’re missing it!_

No, Moriarty was never far from the forefront of Sherlock’s thoughts. He was the closest thing the great detective had to a true equal, in more ways than simple intelligence. Mycroft was his equal in that sense, or indeed sometimes his superior (though Sherlock certainly wouldn't admit it). But Mycroft looked at the world differently. He _cared_ so much, although he may pretend otherwise. He believed in the law, and abided by society’s rules like a gullible schoolboy. For Sherlock, rules were significantly more flexible. They were fine when they suited him, and if they didn’t then who really cared? That was the greatest similarity between Moriarty and Sherlock: they had their own set of rules that they didn't break, but they never pretended to be prisoners to other people’s laws. Sherlock may have been on the side of angels, but he certainly wasn’t one himself. Not in the widely accepted definition of the word, anyway.

So Sherlock couldn’t help the grudging respect he felt for the man despite his many attempts to hurt John and ruin Sherlock. Aside from The Woman, Moriarty was the only person on Earth who Sherlock could honestly say he was fascinated by. The Woman was a neat diversion, and certainly she held her own unique appeal for Sherlock, but Moriarty was the true enigma. The three years that Sherlock spent without his nemesis were the most frustrating he could ever remember living.

Sherlock never believed his feelings toward Moriarty were love, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. It reminded him most closely of the short period of time in his youth when he had been hopelessly addicted to heroin. Despite what Mycroft and John may believe, Sherlock had only been a true drug addict for a few months of his life. He had spent his nights in the worst crack dens that London had to offer, riding a constant rollercoaster of impossibly fantastic highs and incredible desperation as he searched for his next fix. It wasn’t until Mycroft had quite literally dragged him home and plopped him on his first Scotland Yard case that Sherlock had been able to shake the drug habit. Well, kind of. The detective went back to drugs when other things stopped being interesting, and he came off them when real life became intriguing again. The problem was that it was difficult for Sherlock to imagine anything being more interesting than Moriarty and his exploits. Nothing had ever captured his attention in the same intense way. Sherlock _needed_ Moriarty.

Moriarty, for his part, felt quite similarly. He passed his days making money and following his whims, and the biggest and most exciting diversion of all was Sherlock. How fun this man was to play with! How he piqued Jim’s excitement! It reminded him of his first fledgling forays into crime, that adrenaline rush that had hooked him in for the rest of his life. That was why Jim played with Sherlock so. The taunting, the holding his loved ones hostage, the flirting; Jim did love his toys. Only once had Moriarty allowed himself to contemplate his true feelings for the famous detective. The man intrigued him--every part of him. He doubted that Sherlock had ever considered him in the same way; the detective--the virgin--had no interest in such mundane things as sex. Jim, on the other hand, had no such reservations. Despite this, the criminal mastermind did enjoy his time with dear Sherlock. If only it hadn't had to end on that rooftop. But Jim preferred to think of it more as a long intermission in the waltz they were so engaged in...

  
Finally, _finally_ the consulting criminal made his reappearance. Watching the crude animation on Mycroft’s small phone screen sent a literal shiver down Sherlock’s spine, although that could have been the tremendous high he was coming off of.

“Did you miss me?”

Yes, he had.

 


End file.
